


Come What May

by impulsewriter (trilogycal)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Hunk/Shay (Voltron) - Freeform, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Character Death Fix, During Canon, Hinted/Implied Keith/Lance (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Men Crying, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rated For One (1) Bad Language plus an outright mention of sexual content, References to Canon, Season/Series 07 Spoilers, bc. you know. shiro., fingers crossed that this turns out good, like. this is p canon-based so, literally only the first four ppl have lines, lots of that. like jeez lotta tears, lotta canon. arg, so if you came here for. say. pidge? ur outta luck bud, sorry if my formatting turns out to be garbage i'm bad at html esp when it's 5am, the bitter asshole adam from the bond series is canon so this is very ooc. pls forgive me, the rest is all implication ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 01:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilogycal/pseuds/impulsewriter
Summary: storm clouds may gather, and stars may collide,but i will love you 'til the end of time.Adam and Shiro reuniting. (s7 fix-it)





	Come What May

**Author's Note:**

> aka, me getting pissed off about adam's death all over again. 
> 
>  
> 
> me, watching shiro touch adam's memorial plaque, ghibli tears in my eyes: dammit jim......i'm a fic writer not a canon fixer

_Don’t expect me to be here when you get back._

_He was always right about everything_ , Shiro muses numbly. _I owe him an apology._ He brushes his fingertips over Adam’s picture on the plaque, a tiny familiar face among thousands of strangers. “Adam…” 

Adam stares straight ahead, never prone to distraction, stony gray eyes never straying upward. His hat sits just slightly crooked on his head, the medallion on the front settled above his right eye instead of in the square center of his forehead, and Shiro has never wished for anything more than to be able to fix it, and tell him that he was right. “I’m sorry….” The crack of his voice echoes, bounces back to his ears, and Shiro lets his eyes brim with tears, unwilling to close them; not even the solid surface beneath his hand can convince him that Adam’s face won’t disappear like smoke in the wind. 

Iverson’s gruff voice speaks softly from behind him. “It’s because of them that Earth still had a chance.” 

Shiro remains silent, reaching out to rub his thumb across Adam’s picture again. His fingerprint leaves a faint smudge over the gold veneer, a blurry blot beside the third star of his rank. The pad of his thumb rubs over the engraving of his name, no more than five letters and a statistic. 

At Shiro’s lack of reply, Iverson turns away, quiet footsteps amplified in the silent mausoleum. “It’s time for our debriefing,” he murmurs, leaving Shiro standing in the shadow of the memorial. 

In the old days, spouses of deceased military officers received a memento: a flag, a uniform, maybe a plaque if there wasn’t anything else left to provide. Shiro wonders what Adam may have been given, thinking back to the belongings scattered across his empty apartment. He lets a sad, tiny smile onto his face, thinking that if it were him, he would’ve given Adam his favorite coffee mug back, the one left in the dishwasher before they separated; or maybe the sweatshirt Shiro never quite returned after they moved into the same apartment. 

Shiro closes his eyes as fonder memories resurface, making his heart hurt with an old ache that’s dulled with time but never faded completely. He brings his hand up to his mouth and kisses the knuckle of his pointer finger, pressing it to where the severe line of Adam’s mouth sits. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again. 

His hand falls away from the plaque, and Shiro turns away to follow Commander Iverson. 

 

+

 

“ _Shiro, it’s Sam_.”

Unlike the seamless announcement system on the old Castleship, earthen intercoms still crackle when spoken into. Commander Holt’s voice starts very suddenly, cutting into his light dozing, and Shiro is hit with the sensation of falling briefly before he regains his senses and pushes himself up onto his remaining elbow. 

“Yes, what is it?” He manages to avoid sounding too disoriented, but Sam, a father of two rather sneaky children who tend to stay up late, catches onto the way he slurs a little. 

“ _Sorry to disturb your rest, Shiro_ ,” Sam says, and his apologetic tone carries through the intercom. Shiro waves his hand to dismiss it, but realizes Sam can’t see him and lets it flop back onto the bed. “ _But it’s important. Very important, I’d say_.” 

Shiro sits up completely. “What is it?” he presses, feeling the anxiety sharpen in his chest. He’d been battling this not-quite-right sensation in his gut for days now, and the knot in his stomach tightened as if to say I told you so. Possibilities fly through his head at warp speed. 

“ _Don’t panic, Shiro_ ,” Sam assures him, as if sensing the heightening panic in his voice. It does little to calm him down, but Shiro stops mid-pace. “ _It’s related on a personal note – specifically, to you. Keith and Hunk have returned from their… reconnaissance mission_ – “

“Their _what_?!” 

“ – _with very vital information_ ,” Sam continues. He hesitates, the static behind his voice crackling. “ _And, they’ve managed to find someone who’s very important. Get down to Entrance Bay C-2 and see for yourself_.” As if he can sense that Shiro is about to sprint all the way there, he adds on, “ _No running in the hallways, Officer_.” 

Shiro is already out the door before Sam hangs up the connection. He ignores the playful reminder and runs through the corridors, yelling apologies over his shoulder when he nearly mows over both Commander Dos Santos and Professor Montgomery. “Sorry!! Commander Holt said it was important!” he calls back to them. He’ll apologize later, when there are less pressing matters to attend to. 

One of the AW-Cruisers is parked outside when Shiro exits the main building. Silhouettes come into focus as he jogs further outside, and Shiro recognizes the red and yellow accents on Keith’s and Hunk’s Paladin armor. Two more people stand alongside them, James and Veronica, and Sam and Iverson are among them, but there’s a seventh person that’s climbing out of the cruiser and jumping down to the ground. They have broad shoulders, and long legs, and they’re dressed in dirty clothes that have seen better days and less violence. 

When they turn around, Shiro stops running, stumbling to a stop as numb disbelief courses through him. 

The world stops spinning. 

Time slows down, then halts completely. 

“Adam..?” Shiro whispers, his voice breaking on the second syllable. 

“Takashi –!“ Shiro closes his eyes, takes a deep breath; he never thought he’d hear that voice outside his dreams, and now it’s here, calling his name, growing louder as it nears, overlapped with loud pounding footsteps that – 

A heavy weight slams into him, something solid ramming into him at full speed, and Shiro, unprepared, stumbles backward, arms instinctively flying around the waist of – The air is knocked out of his lungs as his back hits the ground below. Stars wobble on the edge of his vision, but Shiro furiously blinks them away, a little wheezy when he talks. “Oh, God,” he says breathlessly, “ _Adam_ – is it really you?” 

“Of course it’s me, you idiot.” Adam draws back a little. He slides one hand around to cradle the curve of Shiro’s skull, fingers curling in the white hair, the other coming up to cup his cheek. “The question is, is it really _you_? When did you become a silver fox? What gave you that scar? And – a-and your arm! Takashi Shirogane, what on _Earth_ have you been –“

Shiro suddenly drags Adam down into a hard kiss, hand splayed on the back of his head. He pours his desperation into the kiss, fingers curling in a handful of wavy brown hair. Adam, though surprised, melts into it, his muffled groan bending under the weight of relief. His palm feels cool against Shiro’s hot face, and his weight, sunken onto Shiro’s chest, is solid and almost crushing, anchoring him into place on the ground. 

The kiss softens as Adam wills it, a thumb swiping underneath Shiro’s eye. He draws back slowly, haltingly, noses sliding together as he brings his head back. “Takashi, don’t cry,” he whispers. “You’re gonna make me cry, too, stop it.” 

Shiro sniffles, ugly and wet, and when he blinks, more tears fall. Adam dutifully wipes them away, smiling so beautifully down at him. The glowing orange of the particle barrier above casts a shadow over Adam’s face, but every detail down the freckle next to his right eye and the tiny scar on his temple stands out in stark, detailed clarity. His glasses are gone, and his face looks naked without them. Shiro can’t help but reach up and touch his face, rubbing his thumb on the sensitive spot where the frames would sit, tracing over bruised half-moon bags. 

“If this is some sort of mind game,” Shiro utters, “then I don’t ever want to stop playing.” 

Adam’s face falls a little at that, and Shiro lets his head drop back down onto the concrete, squeezing his eyes shut as more tears spring into them. “Takashi,” Adam murmurs. Shiro feels the broad press of a forehead on his own, the ticklish curl of hair against his temple. “Takashi, look at me.” Shiro keeps his eyes shut, until the crack of Adam’s voice when he says please oh so softly makes it hard to refuse. 

Shiro never thought he’d miss staring into someone’s eyes so much; it was the sappy, romantic stuff of Hallmark movies and soap operas, and he was more of a Space Odyssey 2001 type of guy. But he could lay here on the ground for the rest of eternity, Adam sprawled atop him, staring into those eyes until forever ended. 

“I’m here,” Adam says, his eyes dark and sincere. “And I’m never going anywhere again.” 

 

+

 

“What if someone were to infiltrate Sendak’s ship and gain access to its crystal? Could the cannons be disrupted?” 

“ _Infiltrate Sendak’s ship_?” Sam sounds doubtful. 

Shiro narrows his eyes as another tremor rattles the ATLAS. “Would it work?” he asks again, sharp and impatient. 

“ _It could_ ,” Sam cautiously says. Shiro can hear the sounds of him pressing buttons as he talks. “ _But you’d need a communication device to link to the ATLAS so we can hack their system_.” 

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Shiro announces, straightening up to his full height. “I’m going in.” He glances at Coran, who turns when his name is called. “Coran, the ship is yours. Get the ATLAS to the impact site. We need to be prepared for every outcome.” 

A shadow in the corner of his vision catches his eye. Shiro watches, eyes wide, as Adam spins around in his chair and stands. He abandons his station with little more than a thought, stalking up the bridge with square shoulders. He breezes past Shiro, and stops once he’s before the turbolift, if only to call it to the bridge. 

“Adam, what are you _doing_?” Shiro asks, voice pitched high with disbelief. If this is going where he thinks it’s going, then – 

Adam doesn’t turn around, even when Shiro comes up behind him. “I’m coming with you,” he replies, almost nonchalantly. “What do you _think_ I’m doing?” 

“No. Absolutely not.” Shiro reaches out for his arm and tries to pull him away from the turbolift. “Adam, if this plan has any chance of working, it has to be a solo operation. Two people would be detected far too easily.” 

Adam yanks his elbow out of Shiro’s hand, and levels an icy glare at him. “Sorry to crash your solo operation, _Captain_ , but you can’t stop me.” He turns back toward the turbolift as it arrives, and boards. He faces the doors again with a cold stare, arms tightly crossed as he patiently waits for Shiro to enter. 

Shiro feels the unfortunately familiar twinges of frustration in his chest. “I can _never_ stop you,” he mutters, “even when it’s for your own good.” He grits his teeth, and follows Adam into the lift, ordering it to bring them to the disembarking bay. The doors cut off the sound of the bridge, sealing him in a vacuum of tension. The lift does not jostle as it moves, only gliding in perfect motion, so unlike an Earth invention. 

“You don’t even know what’s for your _own_ good, much less _mine_!” Adam wastes no more time and snaps at him once they start moving down, unfolding his arms to wave them around angrily. “You contracted a terminal illness that atrophies your musculature? Oh, better go on a dangerous mission to the edges of the solar system and get abducted by hostile aliens, and then willing join an intergalactic war against those same aliens that leads to you being replaced by a clone! That’s you, Takashi Shirogane, the most impulsive, thick-headed hypocrite in the universe!” 

“’Hypocrite’?” Shiro laughs mirthlessly. “You’re not over that yet?” he drawls, crossing his own arms. 

“’ _Not over that yet_ ’!?” Adam explodes, volume rising to an enraged shriek. “Takashi, all of the dangerous, life-threatening things you’ve done over the past five – no, six years are all fine and dandy, but the second I want to actually join you on one of those things, so it possibly won’t be so life-threatening, _I’m_ the bad guy?! You’re out of your damn mind!” 

“Adam. The only bad guy here is _Sendak_ ,” Shiro explains carefully – cautious and slow, like he’s talking to a child. Adam’s nostrils flare, the hidden condescension in Shiro’s voice not going unnoticed, and his knuckles crack as he clenches his fists. “He’s holding up against us like it’s child’s play. We’re losing, Adam – I’m going to help us _win_!” 

“If this is just about _winning_ , then let me help!” Adam growls and pulls on his hair. “Takashi, why won’t you let me help you?!” 

“Because I’m _not_ going to lose you _again_ , Adam!” Shiro grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him. Adam stares back at him, hazel eyes wide behind the wire rectangles of his new spectacles. Silence encapsulates them both, unbroken until the turbolift chimes just a moment later. Shiro releases a trembling breath, and loosens his grip on Adam’s shoulders. He lowers his eyes down to Adam’s mouth, watches mouth part into a wordless vowel. “I’ve already lost you twice…” Shiro’s eyes hesitantly flicker up to Adam’s, and he swallows thickly at the unmoving stillness in his partner’s face. “…I can’t lose you a third time.” 

His gulp is loud in the quiet hum of Altean machinery. Adam lets his eyes flutter shut, a shaky sigh escaping him. “Takashi,” he murmurs, cracking his eyes open again. He moves his arms under Shiro’s grip, bringing his hands up to rest on Shiro’s waist. “I’m here…” 

Shiro’s eyes widen at the familiar words. 

Adam brings a hand up, curling his fingers around Shiro’s chin. “…and I’m never going anywhere again.” 

Adam guides him into a feather-light kiss, nothing more than the chaste bump of their cupid’s bows. He rubs his thumb against the hard line of Shiro’s jaw, tilting his head forward and initiating another fragile kiss, lips brushing against the corner of Shiro’s mouth. Adam draws back just enough for their noses to rub together, foreheads bumping. “…when will you understand that, Takashi?” he whispers between them, the words filling the space between them. 

Shiro licks his lips, and watches Adam’s eyes follow the curl of his tongue, entranced by the eyes on him. “Kiss me again and I just might start to,” he breathes. He’s close enough to watch Adam’s pupils dilate, shrinking to pinpricks of black among brown and green, and he licks his lips again just to watch those short, straight eyelashes flutter. 

Another shaky breath travels between them, Adam’s chest shuddering as he sets it free. “When you get back, I will,” Adam whispers. His fingers curl in the fabric of Shiro’s uniform, bunching it up near the hips.

Shiro closes his eyes, bumping the tips of their noses together, lips parting as they hover near the other’s mouth. “That a promise?” he asks. 

“It is,” Adam confirms. His eyes harden, but there’s a watery veneer to them that robs him of any actual sternness, and he draws away from their close combat. The heat of his body ebbing away makes Shiro feel almost cold in comparison. “ _When_ , Takashi. You hear me?” 

“I hear you.” Shiro tilts his head up, and he rests his chin on Adam’s bowed head. He closes his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. He presses his lips to Adam’s temple, brushing aside a stray curl of sandy brown hair. “I will come back to you, Adam. You hear me?” He pulls away, holding Adam by the shoulders. 

Adam nods, one corner of his mouth pulling into a lopsided smile. “I hear you,” he says. He raises his hand, placing his hand on Shiro’s human arm and squeezing his wrist, thumb rubbing the joints beneath the cuff of the sleeve there. “Go get ‘em, Shirogane. I’ll be waiting.” He looks away to open the turbolift, the other half of his lips joining the other in a full smile, albeit subdued. 

Shiro nods resolutely, and turns to exit through them. “You’d better be,” he teases, reaching for a pressurized suit. As the curved doors slide shut and Adam is whisked away by the telling thrum of the turbolift, Shiro fits his helmet over his head, and braces himself for the fight of a lifetime, willing the others – his family and friends – to do the same. 

 

\+ 

 

_Takashi…. wake up…._

Muffled sound barely reaches his ears, suppressed like the words are traveling through water. His throat aches as a quiet groan escapes him, and Shiro struggles to move his head. It feels like a lead weight on his neck. When it falls to the side, unable to resist the push of gravity, blood rushes to his ears at the sudden movement. 

There’s a dip of weight beside him, and body heat soaks into his side. Another whisper of his name reaches his ear, much clearer this time, and Shiro tries to crack his eyes open. “Takashi, wake up.” 

A warm hand gently touches his cheek, sliding beneath the side of his head and coaxing it back upright. The familiar voice makes a chord within him hum, and Shiro sighs as comfort swells around him. He tilts his head into the palm on his cheek and raises his own hand to cover it, lips tugging into a sluggish smile. “Mornin’,” he rasps, cracking open his eyes and looking up at Adam from under his eyelashes. “Now ain’t that the prettiest sight. Your smile…” 

“Gee, Takashi.” Adam chuckles. “You sure know how to flatter a guy, even when you sound like death.” 

Shiro matches his laughter, and tilts his head to kiss the curve of Adam’s palm. “You know I’m the most honest guy you know,” he teased hoarsely. “I just tell it how it is. And boy, your face… _is_.” 

Adam pulls his hand out of Shiro’s and stands, laughter following him as he walks out of sight. “You need some water, I can’t take you seriously when you sound like that.” Shiro hears the sound of a tap running, and Adam returns shortly thereafter with a glass of water. “Drink slowly,” he warns, falling back into a familiar persona of stern authority as he sits back down and presses the glass into Shiro’s hand. “Or else you’ll drown yourself. Or worse.” 

“What’s worse than – you know what, I won’t ask.” Shiro raises the glass up and drains it in three consecutive gulps. Adam tsks when his parched throat rejects it, and he coughs halfway through the last swallow, some of it squirting out of his mouth and rolling down his chin. 

“What did I tell you?” he says when Shiro finishes a coughing fit. 

Shiro leans back against the pillows and sighs, chest still burning a little. “You were right,” he begrudgingly admits, twining his fingers together in his newly damp lap. “You always are.” 

Adam lifts his chin proudly. “Thank you, Takashi,” he says, shifting so he can slide his arm around Shiro’s slumped shoulders. He’s very careful of the various wires plugging Shiro into various machines, specifically the ones attached to needles embedded into Shiro’s veins. (He tries not to think about it too much. Ugh.) 

Shiro wiggles his free arm around Adam’s waist. “You’re always right,” he repeats. He sighs and leans his head into Adam’s chest, growing solemn despite the silly dizziness making his head spin. “Back at.. your memorial… I told myself that you deserved an apology.” His fingers curl loosely in the fabric of Adam’s shirt, unable to clutch more solidly, weak under the influence of what must be morphine. “For leaving to go on the Kerberos mission… for leaving again to fight with Voltron….” 

“Takashi, all that matters to me is that you’re here now.” Adam tilts his chin up and to the right. His eyes are dark, and sincere. 

“But Adam, I never got to tell you –“ Shiro cuts himself off, jerking his chin out of Adam’s grip. He coughs off to the side, lowering his gaze down to the shape of his legs beneath the blanket. 

Adam smirks above his head. “Tell me what, Takashi?” he asks with a sweet, saccharine sweetness. He fakes concern when Shiro keeps his head down, ears blushing pink. 

Shiro takes a single deep breath. “That I love you,” he says with surprising ease, raising his head back up to ensnare Adam in a deep, meaningful stare. “I’ve said it to you before, but that was when I was drunk, or you were sleeping, or I was in bed without you next to me.” He closes his eyes and lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Or I was hallucinating on a Galra experimentation table, getting my arm replaced with a prosthetic that didn’t have any anti-virus protection.” He flexes his fingers on Adam’s hip, and re-engages him with a soft, affectionate smile. Adam blinks, and tears cling to his eyelashes. Shiro laughs softly, glancing down at the chain of the IV in his arm. 

“Takashi –“ Adam breaks off to sniffle, and wipes his eye with the hem of his sleeve. “You sure know how to flatter a guy,” he croaks, a watery smile appearing on his wobbling mouth. He brings his hand back down to Shiro’s cheek, and Shiro leans into it again, closing his eyes contently as Adam idly scratches at his scalp. “God, I missed that sense of humor of yours. Dry as an old sponge.” 

“Not quite as moldy, though,” Shiro offers, and Adam laughs again, smacking his chest gently. 

“Cut it out, I’m trying to get serious,” he warns, and Shiro watching his stifle snickers with eyelids heavy with fondness. 

“Takashi,” Adam starts, and it doesn’t matter how many times he says it, Shiro loves it every time. After not hearing it for six years, it could be the only word he could hear for the rest of his life, and Shiro wouldn’t mind as long as it was Adam saying it. “I... I love you, too.” 

After a moment of pause, Shiro asks sarcastically, “That it?” 

“Shut up, I’m gathering my thoughts!” Adam smacks his chest again. 

Shiro shows off his palms in a show of pacifism. “Sorry. Continue the thought-gathering.” 

Adam coughs into his free fist. He never could handle it when the tables were turned, Shiro mused. “Takashi Shirogane – no, wait, that sounds too much like – “ He pauses to blush, dark red against his brown complexion, and Shiro can’t help but giggle rather girlishly. “Shiro. Ugh, that’s what all your buddies call you, and I am _not_ just a buddy.” He glares up at the ceiling. “Takashi, what I’m trying to say here…. Will you get married to me?!” 

Shiro blinks. “Will you,” he repeats, eyebrows piqued, “…get.. married to me?” 

Adam rolls his eyes. “Finally. I thought you’d never ask.” He shifts his leg up onto the bed, and presses a kiss to Shiro’s forehead. 

Shiro snorts, biting his lip to contain the full laugh. “You got me, I’ll give you that one,” he confesses, letting Adam lean their heads together. He hums as fingers card through his hair, nails scratching at the nape of his neck, and Shiro heaves a relaxed sigh. “Y’know, with the whole passing out thing, I never got to kiss you again.” Adam hums, a vibration through his chest, and Shiro elaborates. “You know… when I got back.” 

Adam raises his eyebrows, eyes still contently closed. “When you got back, you transformed the ATLAS into a massive, insanely proportioned mechanized fighter. You snatched Neon Genesis Evangelion’s wig, honestly, although I’ll never wrap my mind around just how you did it.” 

“Gundam who?” Shiro asks, modest tone stretching into something more boastful and cocky. 

Adam rolls his eyes again, and aggressively kisses Shiro’s forehead. “I suppose you’re owed a favor,” he relents, his fingers sliding underneath the point of Shiro’s chin and tilting it upward, a smirk of his own mirrored on his mouth. “Since you kept your promise, and all.” 

Shiro moves his hand down to rest on Adam’s bent knee, and lets himself be guided, leaning up to meet him halfway. Adam lingers just barely out of reach, the soft bows of his mouth bumping Shiro’s, scarred palms hot brands against Shiro’s cool cheeks. 

Shiro bares his teeth and follows Adam forward as he draws back. “Tease,” he growls, eyebrows furrowing as Adam leans back further still. “Think I won’t get out of this bed and chase you? I got out of an airship in the upper atmosphere to fly to another ship in the upper atmosphere and have an epic duel with an alien on the hull of that same second ship. Fulfill your end of the bargain and kiss me, Adam, you _coward_.” 

“God, how I missed that sense of humor of yours,” Adam breathes. He lets Shiro reach up and pull him in by the shirt, leaning in to the kiss as Shiro initiates it. 

It could’ve only been dobashes, or entire vargas could have passed, Shiro didn’t bother counting. A knock on the door disturbs their quality time together, and Adam jerks back from their probably-too-frisky-for-a-hospital-room kiss, startled by the sudden noise. He hurries to adjust his position into something a little less compromising, scooting down to sit at Shiro’s waist, and wipes his sleeve across his slick lips. “Come in!” he calls, reaching up to try and smooth his ruffled hair down into something more presentable. Shiro opts for a very dignified pout, and reaches down to pinch Adam’s inner thigh. 

Commander Iverson enters the room just as Adam swats his pinching fingers away. “Glad to see you’re awake and alive, Shirogane,” he greets. In his hand is a bouquet of white lilies, and Shiro wonders if he’s aware of the implication of that flower choice. 

“Glad to _be_ awake and alive, Commander,” Shiro replies, letting his hand rest on Adam’s knee. He knows he won’t move it, lest it looks unnatural, and he lives to push Adam’s buttons. He looks down at the flowers and raises his eyebrows. “Those for me?” 

Iverson looks down at the flowers, and swear to God, the man blushes. “Yeah, got’em for you. Thought they looked pretty, and flowers are pretty universal as a token of gratitude. Or, so my wife said.” He coughs and shifts his weight, clearly unsure of what to do with them. Adam, bless him, stands and takes the flowers off of the poor guy’s hands. “But I didn’t come here to ask you to the sock hop, Shirogane.” 

“Oh, so you do need an ulterior motive to come visit me? Commander Iverson, I am hurt.” Shiro rests his hand on his forehead and falls back against the pillows, gaze fluttering up to the ceiling. “We saved the world together, and I’m just an acquaintance to you. Wounded, I am.” Adam rolls his eyes again, so hard that they had every right to pop out of his skull. 

“Commander, ignore him. His brain must have atrophied after an entire week of being unconscious.” Adam pats his leg fondly with a hand free of flowers. Shiro sticks his tongue out at him. Poor Iverson just looks awkward, like he walked into a marital dispute. “What did you come to see us for?” 

Shiro sighs dreamily, hand over his heart. “’Us.’” 

Iverson rubs his neck as Adam administers another reprimanding smack to his calf. “Tomorrow afternoon,” he begins, “the Garrison is hosting a televised memorial service to commemorate those who died in the war.”The somber tone of the request casts a veil of silence over the room. Shiro and Adam glance at each other. Shiro can almost remember touching Adam’s memorial plaque, staring at every angle and imprinting it on his mind. Whatever Adam remembers makes him close his eyes and look down. 

“You want me to give a speech,” Shiro quietly guesses. 

Iverson nods. “You don’t have to unless you want to, son,” he says, folding his arms behind his back. “The rest of your team declined the invitation to speak, so I came to ask you.” He rocks on his heels. “You have until tomorrow morning to think about it, if you need. Just let us know, somehow.” 

“No, that’s fine.” Shiro makes a loose fist with his flesh hand, grimacing at the shift of the needle in his vein. Adam watches him, mouth pulled into a thin line of concern. “I’d like to do the speech, sir. What time should I be ready tomorrow?” 

“The service starts at 1000 hours.” Shiro does some quick mental acrobatics to translate that to Altean units, then Intergalactic Standard Time, then confusingly translates it back to Earth military standard before he actually gets it. “We wouldn’t force you to come before you’re ready, though.” 

“No, no, ten is fine.” Shiro glances up at Adam, who look solemn at his agreement to do the speech. He cracks a smirk, and jerks his head in that direction. “Unless morning glory here doesn’t get his coffee first.” 

“Says the man who just slept for a week straight!” Adam scoffs, crossing his arms and giving him a slight shove. 

Iverson smiles faintly at their bickering. “I sympathize with you, son,” he says to Adam. “I can’t even think about associating with anyone other than my lovely Delilah until I’ve had my java. When our rations finally ran aground, well… say I was pretty grumpy.” He sighs fondly. “Anyway, I’d best get back to the Garrison and inform them of your decision. I have a feeling they’ll save the best for last, so uh… make it a good one.” 

“No pressure,” Adam says with a snort. He gets up to find the lilies a vase; there’s a conveniently tall one filled with plastic flowers on the windowsill, and he takes it into the bathroom to fill with water. 

Shiro gives Iverson a smile. “I’ll try my best. Thank you, Commander.” 

Iverson bows out with a graceful nod, just as Adam returns from the bathroom with a fresh vase of lilies. He displays them on the nightstand off to the side, next to the arm of the couch where he’s surely been sleeping for what appears to be a full week, the proof lying in the rumpled blanket and pillow jammed into the crook of the couch arm. 

“I can’t believe you signed me up for a formal military commemoration service at ten AM,” Adam groans, flopping down on the couch, uncaring for the blanket beneath him. “Didn’t even ask me, either. Damn you, Takashi Shirogane, and your unending kindness, grumble grumble…” 

“Do you not want to go?” Shiro stares at him. “If we were under different circumstances, you might be one of the ones I’d be commemorating.” 

Adam picks his head up from limply hanging off the back of the couch. “Of _course_ I’m going,” he says, unexpectedly sharp. “I’m the only member of my fighter squad who’s still alive. The resistance members who saved me from the wreckage died trying to get me to safety. My family was taken into camps and worked to death. They abducted my boyfriend, experimented on him, put him through unimaginable psychological torment, I’m sure, plus –“ He cuts himself off at the pass, heaving a very deep sigh, and lies back across the couch. “Of course I’m coming with you, Takashi,” he mutters. “I’m not giving a speech, though. I’ll leave that all to you, Mister War Hero, sir.” 

“Some supportive fiancé,” Shiro intones. 

“ _Your_ supportive fiancé,” Adam corrects. When he tilts his head, there’s a soft, lingering smile on his face, and even across the room, his eyes are warm. 

 

\+ 

 

“Today is a solemn day.” 

His somber voice echoes over the microphone, every vowel deep with mourning. Shiro pauses to take a halting breath, before he leans back toward the microphone. “Today, we look back on the many days I spent without this wonderful man in my life, and kiss those days goodbye.” He extends his arm out, glass of wine tilting dangerously as he gestures to the guest of honor sitting at the table in the wings, pinching the bridge of his nose and pretending like he isn’t the co-star of this show. 

Shiro cracks a grin that isn’t quite hitched up on one side and returns to his speech. “For a few years of my life, I.. lost this incredible man. As you all know, I ended up going on the Kerberos mission, and if you know that much, you probably know how it ended, too.” He inhales shakily. “What ensued for next Earth year was a very dark period of my life. One that I’ve pretty much blocked out of my memory, except for a few things.” He reflexively curls his hand into a fist, gripping the edge of the podium tightly. “And then, with the help of someone who will never be forgotten, I escaped and returned to Earth…. for all of one day. I didn’t have the time, or the consciousness to find Adam, and tell him that I’m alive, I made it back, and I still love you with all of my heart.” 

His voice cracks, and it carries over the microphone. Shiro swallows, and wills his shoulders to unwind, pausing to breathe deeply and re-center himself. “I was whisked off of Earth once more, abducted by a mystical, quasi-sentient robot created by magical aliens from 10,000 years ago. I was drafted into an intergalactic war against a tyrannical alien dictator driven mad by pure quintessence exposure. Oh, and Zarkon was there too.” His halfhearted joke earns a chuckle from the wings, where the Paladins sit. 

Keith looks the most amused by the good, sharing the driest parts of Shiro’s sense of humor; Hunk just looks crestfallen, even as Shay reassuringly pats his arm. Lance is looking down, face unreadable as he adjusts his rosy boutonniere, which was never crooked in the first place. Adam’s eyes are hidden, light glinting off of them at just the right angle, turning them into reflective white squares; combined with the hand covering his mouth, his expression is dangerously unreadable. 

Shiro forces himself to look away, trying to contain the panic swelling in his chest. “When we returned, I found out that not only did the love of my life just break up with me… but he was missing in action, presumed dead. They took everything away from me: my planet, my freedom, my arm, my friends and family, and now my fiancé. It truly felt like… the light had gone out of my life.” 

“But as it turns out, Adam and a cockroach have more in common than you might think: just won’t die.” Shiro can tell that that shocks Adam out of his melancholia, and he catches his partner shaking his head, face still blank and unreadable. A grin slowly takes control of Shiro’s face, and he looks back out toward the crowd. “Adam turned out to be alive, rescued from Galra captivity by members of the Underground.” He raises his glass to a table near the back, and each person at the table raises their back. “He spotted my team sneaking out like rebellious kids, and I heard he scolded them like an overbearing dad about being so bad at recon, reminding Keith about just how much he didn’t like the guy when they both lived with me.” 

Keith, sitting just on Adam’s left, groans, tilting his head back to share his despair with the ceiling. He snatches Lance’s glass of champagne right from his hand and takes it like a shot, to Lance’s sputtering chagrin. 

Shiro gives them all a brief toast, and takes a small sip to clear his throat. “And when I saw Adam getting out of that cruiser… romance novels always mention something about time slowing down when you see the love of your life, right? Well, that’s what happened. We ran toward each other in slow motion, Adam tackled me like a quarterback in slow motion, and I had a nervous breakdown right there on the ground in front of everybody. All in slow motion, unfortunately. I can still feel the bump on the back of my head from where I hit the concrete in slow-mo.” He rubs the back of his head for effect, and a chuckle ripples through the party. A distinctly Adam-like groan reaches Shiro’s ears, and he revels in it. 

“I slowly retook everything that was taken from me,” Shiro continued. “The man I love, the family I would do anything for, my freedom from the witch who took it in the first place, the planet I call home… I can’t exactly get my arm or my original body back, but these hand-me-downs are tolerable. And the future has never looked as bright as it does now than with Adam by my side once again.” He turns away from the podium, eyes shimmering with tears soon to be shed. “I won’t make you all relive the sappiness of the past hour, so I’ll keep this short and sweet: I love you, Adam, and I’m so, so happy that I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

Before any clapping can erupt, Adam abruptly stands up from the table, making the glasses on it rattle. “I never should have let you have that fifth glass of wine,” he chides, raising his voice so it can carry up to the stage. A laugh spreads through the party tables at his scolding tone. “Takashi, get over here so we can move on with this party. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve been craving wedding cake ever since we tried samples.” 

Shiro sniffles, half indignant, half choked-up. “You’re gonna regret cutting my speech off just so we can move on to the cake,” he vowed darkly, shaking his finger at Adam. “Just you wait!” 

“Save it for later, tough guy.” Adam waved him over, and Shiro reluctantly steps down. Clapping welcomes his descent from the podium, something he might’ve feigned offense over, if Adam didn’t march over and drag him back to his seat, all but pushing him down into it. “Let’s hurry up and cut the cake. I haven’t had anything to eat since dinner last night, I’m starving.” 

Hunk’s cake almost feels too gorgeous to eat. They couldn’t settle on a flavor for it – Adam was insistent on red velvet, but Shiro’s high hopes for chocolate couldn’t be knocked down – so the patient creative genius combined their preferences into a two-tiered tower of perfection; since the smaller tier was red velvet, Hunk added a cluster of butter cream-frosted red velvet cupcakes around the base and on top, in lieu of a traditional topper. Beautiful lavender-colored flowers are strategically placed around the cakes, and there’s delicate, lacy gold trimming around the rim of each tier. Shiro feels guilty for even thinking about eating it, and it’s almost unbearable to join hands with Adam and sink a knife into it, cutting that fragile trim Hunk no doubt painstakingly crafted. 

Adam adores the cupcakes, even when Shiro smashes the first one into his face. “I told you you’d regret cutting off my speech!” 

He eats three more despite that, and when they return to their suite for the night, he still eats another entire meal. 

During their solo dance, Shiro offers his hand, dramatically lowers his gaze, and utters the forbidden words: “ _Hey, lemme holla at’cha for a second_ ,” and breaks out his best shower performance swagger. 

Shiro knows he married a brilliantly good sport when Adam doesn’t divorce him on the spot as he falls back on muscle memory, letting it guide him through an ancient dance routine. His voice deepened considerably since he first learned the song, but Shiro still manages to hit the high notes. Adam is considerably more impressed with him quietly singing the words into his ear while they sway, than him roping variously inebriated Matt, Pidge, and Lance into the roles of his backup singers, but either way, Shiro – amazingly – still has a husband by the time the dance is over. 

“That was not our song, Takashi Shirogane,” Adam chides him once his serenade is over. 

“Uh, yes it totally was?” Shiro protests. “What could our song possibly be?” 

Adam smiles, sweet and sinister all in the curve of his lips, and Shiro’s heart falters in his chest when the tinkling piano notes reach his ears. Adam reaches for his hand and brings their chests together, eyes soft as the cello smoothly joins in, and a rich male pitch begins to whisper the beginning lyrics of the song. 

“Oh.” Shiro gulps. 

Instead of teasing his eloquence, Adam rubs his thumb over Shiro’s. The warm metal of his wedding ring presses against the flat of Shiro’s pointer finger, and Shiro watches it catch the light, the golden band gleaming. The press of a knee against his own recaptures Shiro’s attention, and Adam smiles patiently, nudging him out of ramrod shock and into a gentle sway. 

“ _Seasons may change, winter to spring_ – “ Adam only ever sung in the car, when he believed the radio was too high to hear his voice, always too embarrassed by his timbre and the crack of his throat whenever the notes reached too high. But now, he hums the words into Shiro’s ear, temples pressed together as they slowly sway together, and Takashi Shirogane is falling in love all over again. “ – _but I love you until the end of time. So come what may, come what may_ ….” 

“Adam – “ Shiro breathes out. “Stop, you’re gonna kill me here – “

“ _I will love you_ – “ Adam ignores his soft plea, and his voice rises with the first crescendo. “ – _until my dy-ing day_.” 

“You’re committing murder in the first degree,” Shiro chokes out, throat growing tight. He sniffles, and tightens his grip on Adam’s hand. “Think about what you’re doing.” 

“I’ve thought about this for five and a half years, Takashi.” Adam pulls back, and despite the resolute certainty bolstering his tone, his eyes are still soft and shimmering. His glasses stick out of the breast pocket of his jacket, and Shiro is hit with the full force of Adam’s unmasked eyes, naked without the cloak of thin wires. He closes his eyes, unable to look at each wrinkle, every flutter of eyelashes, without growing overwhelmed. “I’ve loved you for half of my life already. Might as well give you the rest of it, too.” He tilts his head forward and brings their foreheads together, and reaches up with his right hand to wipe the tears from the corner of Shiro’s eye. 

“Oh,” Shiro says, cracking his eyelids open. Tears cling to his eyelashes, and Adam cautiously wipes them away. “Way to go, jerk, make me cry for the millionth time today. I can hardly believe I married you.” 

“I can hardly believe it either.” Adam’s hand slides up to cup the curve of his head, keeping their joined hands between them as he draws Shiro down into a lingering kiss. Clapping erupts as the harmonies of the cello and violin fade away, and Shiro breaks the kiss first when a wolf whistle ensues. “It feels like a dream.” 

“If this is a dream, then I never want to wake up.” Shiro tilts his head back and kisses Adam’s temple, then reaches down and gently slides the glasses out of his breast pocket. “Put your eyes back on, nerd, I know you can’t see anything.” 

Neither of the grooms carried a bouquet up to the altar, but some of the humans – Lance, namely, with a dangerous glint in his eye – asked them to throw the bouquet once the reception was drawing to a closer. When Mrs. Holt produces two bouquets for them to throw, Shiro realizes just how much chaos Lance had created; Shay, the gentlest soul in the universe, might have shoved someone out of the way to catch Adam’s bundle of roses. (Shiro isn’t certain of it; he might’ve blinked, and when he asks anyone else, they act like they’ve been mind-swished.) When it’s Shiro’s turn to toss the bouquet, Lance is front and center, his sister Veronica at his side, eyeing each other like feral cats. 

Takashi ‘Perfect Half-Court Shot’ Shirogane gives his husband a smirk and heaves his bouquet toward the back of the room. He pumps his fist when it lands squarely in Keith’s lap, nearly making him spill his third glass of champagne. “Call me Cupid,” he says, watching Lance storm over to Keith, red-faced and already spilling rapid Spanish. “Because my aim is always sure and true.” 

“Sure thing, Cupid.” Adam shakes his head and winds an arm around Shiro’s back as Keith nervously offers Lance the mistakenly caught bouquet, in some hopes to assuage what Keith clearly took as anger. It does little more than make Lance blush harder, and stutter like his brain broke at the prospect of Keith offering him a caught wedding bouquet. Oh, the implications – “Good job on getting Keith in trouble, by the way. Some older brother you are.” 

Shiro taps his temple and clicks his tongue. “I did always say ‘patience yields focus’.” 

Adam smirks sidelong at him. “Will that still apply when we’re on our way to the Bahamas for our honeymoon?” He leans in, nose bumping Shiro’s ear, and he all but purrs. “Those with patience don’t have sex in airplane bathrooms, Takashi.” 

“Patience?” Shiro asks, his hand lingering around Adam’s hip. “Sorry, I don’t know her.” 

Adam laughs, loud and affectionate, and draws him into an open-mouthed kiss. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“I’d be honored to.”

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 11/9: lol sorry for that abrupt af ending, i had to give up or else i'd be up all night finishing this godforsaken thing
> 
> references: 
> 
>  
> 
> \-  the original inspo song
> 
> \- i found a  comic  that looks strikingly similar to my reuniting scene. i swear, i wrote the scene before i found this fanart. i just found the coincidence funny 
> 
> \- here's the  implication  of white lilies, btw
> 
> \- adashi & klance are parallels. change my mind, bitch
> 
> \-  shiro's song choice 
> 
> \-  adam's song choice 
> 
>  
> 
> i think that's it, but please let me know if i missed anything! 
> 
> also, just a friendly reminder: this may have been a self-indulgent fic, but that doesn't mean comments and kudos aren't appreciated! nudge nudge. let me know your thoughts on this, if you have any!! i'd love to hear them, just please be respectful :) i'm a person too


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